


to the end, to this day

by kaptivated



Series: let's tell a story about running away. [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M, One-sided feelings, Recovered Memories, ouma is having a Dilemma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaptivated/pseuds/kaptivated
Summary: He shakes himself back into reality.Thisreality. This world where Ouma had one task, and one alone. He would end this game for good, no matter what he had to sacrifice. He wants, more than anything, for the Saihara standing before him to live.





	to the end, to this day

**Author's Note:**

> i really just wrote a whole long note for this fic when ao3 crashed on me so that's great :) guess i'll write it all again...
> 
> after thinking about it for some time, i decided i no longer want to dabble with this AU. the relationship i portrayed between pre-game saiouma is really unhealthy, and i don't want to write it anymore. but i wanted at least to give this series a proper ending. hopefully, it's satisfactory.
> 
> takes place in chapter 5, before ouma makes everything go to shit. vague endgame spoilers, so please watch out. (though i really don't know why you'd be reading this series if you haven't finished v3 in its entirety)
> 
> warnings for referenced child abuse, suicide, pain play... nothing new if you've read the rest of this series.
> 
> i'm kinda posting this in a rush cause i just want to get it out already, so i apologize if the writing is a tad sloppy.
> 
> title is from the lyrics of "orange" by tohma. please listen to [this beautiful cover by hanatan](https://youtu.be/IohhRe8AdiM) if you are so inclined. this song is one of my favorites and has influenced a lot of this AU. be sure to read the lyrics as well!
> 
> thank you everybody for reading and enjoying my other fics. really, thank you. i appreciate all your feedback. please enjoy!

"If it isn't my beloved Saihara-chan!"

He runs up to the detective, cornering him in the small, empty hallway. Saihara steps back in response, surprise and confusion and anger all written at once over his face. (Ouma cherishes expressions like that. He never got to see them in the past.) Well, that makes sense. After all, it had only been a few days ago when Ouma had led two poor, innocent people to their cruel and horrific deaths before disappearing from the face of the earth!

"O-Ouma-kun?! What are you..."

Is that a slight hint of fear in Saihara's voice? That makes sense too, Ouma reasons. How unfortunate it must be, to find yourself alone in the school with someone as dangerous as him. (He couldn't hurt Saihara even if he tried.) Judging from his boring, predictable reactions so far, Ouma has a feeling that this meeting was pointless. But he was getting sick of constantly hiding himself from the others, working in secret to ensure his plan would fall perfectly into place. He definitely didn't lay in bed at night feeling lonely and he sure as hell didn't feel guilty about what had happened to Gonta and that dumb bitch Iruma-chan! He was definitely not jealous of everyone else's attempts at cooperation and "friendship". He was not standing here, playing with Saihara one last time, hoping that maybe - _just maybe_ \- he'd keep him company.

"Aw, what's with that scary look? It's just me, y'know." He holds his hands behind his back (to hide how much they're shaking) and inches closer to Saihara. The detective takes another step back, gulps as his foot meets the wall. "Your favorite supreme leader of evil!"

Saihara steels himself. Balls up his hands into tightly-clenched fists, hardens his dull, golden eyes. Ouma perks up. Saihara is lots of fun when he starts to have some confidence in himself. (Except when he'd told him in such a cold, uncaring voice that Ouma was pathetic and alone and that's what he deserved, that's what he'd always be.)

"What are you trying to do, Ouma-kun?"

He pauses a moment. Tries to curl his lips into a creepy grin, play the part of the villain and tease Saihara about how he'd come all the way here just to torture him, to remind him of how he'd failed to keep his promise to Akamatsu yet again. Instead, he stands there, frozen. Blankly staring at Saihara. What _is_ he trying to do? Strangely, he isn't completely sure.

It's not that he didn't have a plan in mind when he decided to catch Saihara all alone. At this point, he couldn't afford to make any moves carelessly. He was so close to ending this damn killing game. No, he knew what he was planning to do. It's just... the sick, heavy feeling pooling in his gut. A question, weighing down his tongue. He's not sure how Saihara will respond. He doesn't know if he even wants Saihara to respond.

He has to ask now, though. He's already come this far. If he runs away now, he'll surely regret it.

"I'm just wondering..." His voice drops low, void of emotion. "Do you remember anything?" When Saihara scrunches his eyebrows, perplexed, Ouma reluctantly adds, "About us?"

It comes out weaker than he wants. His old self slipping back in, he wonders? Yes, Ouma knew that this world was a lie. That all his memories of a fun, blissful life making harmless pranks with his closest friends, his family, were fabricated. His "real" memories had been coming back to him, piece by piece. Perhaps it's because he'd guessed from the start that they'd had their bodies tampered with, while the others ate up everything they were fed, pathetically gullible. Was it because of his constant fear and doubt that Ouma was able to discover the truth?

If so, he truly despises himself for being so unable to trust.

The truth is so painful. Too painful. He remembers the way his parents always pushed him. Pushed him to succeed, pushed him to make himself useful in the world, pushed him onto the cold, hard kitchen tile when he could never measure up. (They'd scream at him, pull him up by his hair, throw him back down again and again and again, why are you so fucking useless, why can't you listen to anything, why do you pretend you're something you're not, why were you even born?) Very nearly pushed him to his death, when one day he'd decided he'd had enough and found himself atop the roof of that wretched school.

But even more painful is everything that comes after. Ouma looks upon the boy standing before him, so familiar and yet so different. He thinks about the times when those beautiful, golden eyes flickered with excitement, when they'd run over the sight of his broken, ruptured skin. When they suddenly seemed so distant, so lost when Ouma mustered up the strength to tell the truth, to confess his emotions, raw and bare. He always felt a little sick, seeing such an expression on Saihara's face, but he swallowed the feeling down and smiled anyway, even as he was struck over and over.

There were softer times too. Times when they would make dinner together, feed each other spoonfuls and laugh at how silly it was. Times when they would go shopping together, Saihara always picking up random things and Ouma reminding him of how bad he felt the last time he wasted money. (He'd sigh, _God, I hate when you're right_ , and let Ouma do the rest.) Times when, after Saihara finished patching up the wounds he'd inflicted on Ouma, they'd wrap themselves in a blanket, arms around each other, their bodies melded perfectly together as they kissed each other to sleep.

Ouma hates those kinds of memories the most. They make his chest heavy, make it hard to breathe, make the back of his eyes start burning, make him want to scream. It's stupid. He has no time for that kind of crap right now. It makes him feel weak. Makes him feel miserable. Makes him feel lonely.

He'd ignored his feelings for a time, but they'd grown to the point where it became hard to focus on enacting his plans. All he could think about was his dearly beloved Saihara.

He just wanted to talk with him alone, one last time. That was fine, wasn't it? After all, the Saihara he'd loved so dearly was already gone forever. He hardly felt anything for Saihara now. (That's a lie, of course. He'd foolishly fallen in love all over again.)

"What... are you talking about?" Saihara's words cut through Ouma like a knife.

Ah. Of course. He knew that it would be like this, but he had tried anyway. Tried to find solace in Saihara. How incredibly stupid of him, to base his actions on such useless feelings. He should've just stayed in hiding, coldly and methodically finalizing his plans. Then, then he wouldn't be standing here about to cry at the feet of the only person he'd ever entrusted his heart to. His rotten, broken heart.

That's it, then. Mission failed. He doesn't know if that's a mercy or not.

Briefly, he entertains the idea that Saihara really does remember, but is pretending otherwise. After all, why would he admit to knowing such a thing? Who would ever want to admit that they'd spent time with someone as filthy as Ouma, had dirtied their hands with his presence?

It was for the better, anyway, now that he considers it. Because as much as his soul yearns for Saihara to hold him again, he knows it's wrong. He knows what they were was wrong. Even if he told himself that he didn't care, didn't mind how Saihara had toyed with him so cruelly, he knows deep down that he did. He did, and it hurt more than anything else. It hurt more than his head slamming against the floor, more than his wrists being sliced apart, more than his neck being crushed beneath Saihara's soft hands. They were monsters, the both of them, and all they could ever do was hurt each other. No matter how much they masked it under the word "love". Like perfume sprayed on a rotting corpse.

He shakes himself back into reality. _This_ reality. This world where Ouma had one task, and one alone. He would end this game for good, no matter what he had to sacrifice. He wants, more than anything, for the Saihara standing before him to live. Because this Saihara knew what it meant to care for others. This Saihara knew what it meant to be cared for. This Saihara knew what it meant to be really, truly happy.

(He envies him, just a little. But his feelings had never mattered anyway.)

He throws on his best grin, at once so easy and yet so painful. He'll lie again, as he's learned to do so easily. It's the only way to protect himself.

"Nishishi~ I'm just joking around, Saihara-chan!"

He backs away, watches the distance between them grow.

"There's nothing about us to remember. Or maybe there is, who knows? Who can say..."

He wonders vacantly, as the setting sun's rays peer through the windows, how one person can look so beautiful. Saihara's eyes, glowing in the golden hour, are so beautiful. He commits the sight to memory. After all, he won't be able to see Saihara like this anymore.

"Quit giving me such a suspicious look! I'm a nice guy, y'know. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

The truth, weaved in so casually. Though Saihara will only see it as a lie. That's his own fault.

"Seems like you're doing just fine without me, though. That hurts, y'know? You should miss me more, Saihara-chan!"

He smiles, just a little wider. It's strange, just how easily Saihara's presence makes him want to smile, despite how miserable he feels inside. He's so lucky to have been able to laugh with Saihara. He's so lucky to have seen him at his best, at his worst. To have known his voice, his warmth, his touch, his dreams...

He takes a breath. This kind of ending is fine. He was able to spend time with Saihara again. That's... that's more than enough.

"Well then, goodbye."

He runs away for the very last time.


End file.
